Blacking Out the Friction
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: Between glee, Cheerios, a convalescing father, and being the only gay kid at school, Kurt might possibly be starting to crack. But when his best friend from childhood and his first relationship come into his life, will they make things better...or worse?
1. Blacking Out the Friction

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

Author's Note: Picks up right where "Grilled Cheesus" leaves off.

* * *

I think that it's brainless to assume that making changes to your window's view will give a new perspective.

And the hardest part is yet to come

I don't mind restrictions or if you're blacking out the friction

It's just an escape (it's overrated anyways)

The hardest part is yet to come

When you will cross the country alone.

_-"Blacking Out the Friction" by death cab for cutie_

* * *

This was going to be a difficult conversation.

Kurt sat on the driver's side of his car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Stop thinking about it," he said aloud. With a determined jerk, he yanked the gearshift to drive and pulled out of the driveway, nearly sideswiping a moving van trundling down the street.

He had been mulling this over for two weeks. Well, a week and six days, if he was honest. It was time to put aside his own thoughts and think about someone else for a change.

He pulled the Navigator into the narrow driveway, parked expertly, and exited the vehicle with a bravado he didn't feel. The car chirped as he locked it by remote, and he shoved the keys into the pocket of his well-tailored blazer.

He hesitated on the front stoop. _Do it. Do it now. _

He opened the screen door, wincing at the loud creak, and rapped smartly. No one answered. He took a step back and waited. Their car was in the drive, after all. Someone would come eventually.

The front door clunked as the lock turned. He bounced nervously on his toes. The door opened. "Well, hi, Kurt," Carole said, smiling. She had to have just gotten home from work; she was still wearing her nurse's scrubs and no-nonsense white sneakers. "Are you here to see Finn? He's in the den if you-"

"No," he said quickly. "Actually, I'm here to see…well, to see you both, but I suppose you, mostly."

Carole frowned. "Come inside," she said, holding the door open. He stepped into the Hudson house. It was warm inside, and the scent of simmering marinara sauce filled the air. "Are you hungry? Dinner's just about ready."

He fidgeted. "Thank you, but no," he said. "I just wanted to stop by and ask you something."

She narrowed her gaze. "Sit down," she said gently.

He obeyed, sinking into one of the scuffed maple chairs at the kitchen table. Carole poured him a glass of water and set it in front of him, then sat down across the table. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Is this about your dad?" Carole asked. "I was going to stop by after dinner to see how he's doing."

"He's doing better, thank you," he said. Kurt tapped the sides of the waterglass. "It's just that…well, I'm not very good at the whole…taking care of sick people thing."

Carole impulsively reached across the table and took his hand. "You're doing fine," she said.

He slid his hand away and took a sip of water. "My dad needs more than fine," he said. "He really misses having you around."

Carole folded her hands. "What are you trying to say?" she asked.

Kurt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you and Finn would consider moving back in with us," he blurted out.

Carole leaned back. "Honey, I'd love to," she said. "But is it up to us? How does your dad feel about this? He hasn't said a word to me about it."

"That's because he doesn't know," Kurt said. He slid his finger against the condensation on his glass, then cleared his throat and sat up straight. "The Hummel pride can be a little…ridiculous. He doesn't want to admit that he needs anyone to help him out, but he does."

Carole smiled. "Kurt, I'd be happy to come back and stay with you and your dad," she said. "But I have to talk to Finn about it. He didn't take it so well the first time around."

"Take what?"

Kurt turned around and slunk further in his chair, his fingers now tapping out an even more erratic beat on the water glass. Finn leaned against the doorway, a cordless Xbox controller in his hands. "Finn, honey," Carole said. "Kurt came to ask us if we could move back in with him and his dad."

Finn looked from his mother to Kurt to the floor. "Your dad doing any better?" he asked.

"He's improving," Kurt said.

Finn glanced up, flashing his lopsided grin. "Sure," he said.

"Sure to what?"

"To moving in," Finn said. "Yeah. I think it would work out for everybody."

Kurt straightened. "Really?" Finn scratched the back of his neck with the Xbox controller. "As long as your dad isn't still mad at me about…you know."

"I don't think he's mad at you anymore," Kurt said quickly. "And I can redecorate my room, if that will help sway your opinion."

Finn shrugged. "'Sokay," he said. "If you can give up your room for me, I guess I can learn to live in a Mongolian tent."

"Moroccan," Kurt corrected.

Carole stood up and crossed to the stove. "We'd be happy to come back," she said, turning down the heat on the front left burner. "You have to talk it over with your dad first, though."

"I will," Kurt said, standing quickly. "I'll talk to him about it tonight. I think he'll be happy. Really happy. I don't think you know how happy he'll be."

"I know," Carole said, smiling at him. "Thanks for coming over."

Kurt slid his hands into his coat pockets and hunched his shoulders. "Thanks for…well, thank you," he said. He ducked his head and slipped past Finn.

He could still hear them talking as he let himself out of the front door. "Mom, is Kurt's dad okay?"

"He's doing better. But I'm worried about Kurt, he's…"

The screen door slammed behind him. He climbed into the driver's seat and peeled out into the street.

_Why would anyone be worried about me? _he thought. _My dad is the one who had a heart attack._

He drove in silence, lost in thought. The moving van he had nearly hit on his way out was still on his street, parked at the house next door. Movers in ratty coveralls hoisted couches and dressers and chairs from the back of the truck and into the house. He navigated carefully around them and parked in his own driveway.

"That you, Kurt?"

"Yeah, Dad," he called, locking the front door and throwing his jacket savagely across the back of an armchair.

"Where'd you head off to?'

Kurt walked into the den. His father sat in his recliner in front of the television, flipping idly through the channels. "Oh, just out for a little drive," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine, just fine," Burt said. He switched off the TV. "Just bored. How can there be nothing good on a Sunday afternoon?"

"I can't imagine," Kurt said, attempting to smile.

"Maybe the doctor will tell me I can start back at the garage soon," he said. "I haven't been this lazy in years. It's like I-" He cut off in midsentence and frowned. "Are you all right?"

Kurt sank into the chair across from his father. "Dad, I asked Carole to move back in," he whispered.

Burt sat up straighter. "What?"

"It's for the best," he said, looking down at his shoes. "Carole can help you better than I can. Besides, I see how happy you are every time she visits. It would be good for you."

"Yeah? Well, how about you, kiddo?" Burt said. "I saw how rough it was for you. You and Finn…you're not exactly kindred spirits."

Kurt flexed his fingers. "I know," he said.

"Besides, I don't know if we're ready to move on," Burt said. "I know it's been eight years, but…sometimes I can swear that your mom's about to walk through that front door."

"Dad," Kurt said abruptly. "I asked Carole and Finn to move back. They said yes. Just accept it, okay? It's for the best."

"Kurt-"

He stood up. "It's for the best," he repeated. "I'll start dinner in a little bit, okay?"

"_Kurt_."

"What?" he said.

Burt held out his arm. Kurt stepped closer and took his dad's hand. "I appreciate what you're doing," he said. "I really do like Carole. And Finn's a good kid."

"I know, Dad," Kurt said. He squeezed his dad's hand. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Why don't you just order a pizza or something," Burt said. "You've been bending over backwards trying to take care of me. Take it easy."

"Sure," Kurt said. He let go of his dad's hand and walked away.

* * *

"So Finn and his mom are moving back in with you and your dad?"

Kurt stared at his reflection in his locker mirror. "Next weekend," he said. "This time they might stay more than a few weeks."

Mercedes leaned against the lockers. "Dang, boy," she said. She leaned closer. "Are you still all…you know…in love with-"

"No," Kurt said firmly. He sighed. "No, I'm afraid that that ship sailed away over the summer."

"Why?" She grinned knowingly. "Did you meet someone else?"

Kurt stared at his reflection. "No," he said, successfully hiding the bitterness that threatened to creep in. "I just finally forced myself to realize that it was never going to work out, and that if I continued to obsess over him, I might never find the person I'm supposed to be with." He slammed his locker shut. "Besides, I was kind of stalking him."

"So you're really okay with them moving backing with you and your dad?" she said.

"Of course," he said. "I was the one who asked them?"

He started to saunter down the hall to his homeroom, but Mercedes caught him by the arm. "Hold up," she said. "You actually went over there and asked them?"

"Naturally," he smiled.

"Why on earth did you do that?" she said.

He paused, debating whether to tell her the truth or to offer an off-the-cuff quip. Mercedes glowered at him. He sighed. "My dad still isn't doing well," he said. "He hasn't been able to go back to work. I've been trying to help out when I can, but I can't do everything." He hugged his binders to his chest and lowered his voice to conspiratorial tones. "If my mom was still alive, she'd be able to take care of everything. But I can't. I figure that if Carole can take care of my dad, then I can take over some of my dad's work."

Mercedes tucked her arm through his. "How long have you been keeping all this to yourself?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "My dad's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. Finn is surprisingly okay. Life will go on."

They strolled down the hall towards homeroom, but for some reason he couldn't quite shake the odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't exactly right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He ducked out of the way of a jock with a slushie, avoided a pair of nerdy girls debating the merits of vampires versus werewolves, and sidestepped the class president escorting a new student around the school. They had nearly made it to homeroom when a looming figure in a tracksuit materialized.

"China doll. I'd like a word." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I saw that."

"Hey, Coach Sylvester," Mercedes said politely.

Sue narrowed her gaze. "Not interested," she said. "I don't speak to former Cheerios. Get to class."

Mercedes shook her head and walked into homeroom. "Can I help you?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know, can you?" she said. "Cheerios practice. You. Do you see the problem.?"

"I'm…I'm not sure."

She leaned close. "You haven't shown up," she said. "Now, I relied on you and your fourteen and a half minutes of French warbling to clinch nationals last year. Can I count on you again?"

"Well…I suppose," he stammered. "My schedule's a little full."

She leaned even closer. He flattened himself against the wall. "How's your dad holding up?" she asked.

"He's doing well, all things considered," he said, slightly startled.

"What about you? You keeping it together?"

"I'm fine."

She straightened to her full, rather imposing height. "Good," she said. "I expect you to start back with the Cheerios this week. It's a Super Saturday, ladyface. Be prepared."

He sighed as the cheerleading coach power-walked away.

_Fantastic. Something else to pretend to not be worried about._

* * *

Mr. Schue surveyed his roomful of students, flashing that "I'm-about-to-impart-a-fabulous-life-lesson" smile. Kurt sat between Mercedes and Tina, arms folded across his stomach.

"I want to try something different," Mr. Schue said. "I've noticed that we tend to stay…well, in the mainstream when it comes to our music choices."

"Isn't that what the judges want?" Rachel said. She looked from left to right, staring wide-eyed at her fellow glee clubbers. Her hair flipped around wildly. "They want familiar songs performed in a new way. That's what we give them! That's what they like!"

"But if we had new music that no one had heard, it might set us apart," Artie countered.

"So what're we gonna do?" Puck asked. He sat up straighter. "Screamo?"

Mercedes scowled. "Really, Puck? Screamo?"

"I like it," he defended. He demonstrated with a loud, raspy yowl.

Brittany covered her ears. "That makes my toes hurt."

"Guys," Mr. Schue said. "I want you to pick a song to perform that you don't think anyone else in the club has ever heard. It might be a song that you liked as a kid, or something from another country."

Kurt idly examined his fingernails. "Can it be something too cultured for anyone else to know?" he asked.

Rachel stood up. "I think I know what you're thinking," she said. "And _no. _If anyone is going to sing a Gilbert and Sullivan number, it's going to be me."

Kurt scowled. "Curses," he mumbled. Mercedes patted him on the knee.

"I'll give you guys a week to pick your song and rehearse it," Mr. Schue continued. "And I expect all of you to perform something. You can perform in a duet or a trio, as long as you do something."

Brittany raised her hand. "Would next week be a good time for my Ke$ha performance?" she inquired.

"Britt, no time is a good time for a Ke$ha performance," Artie said dryly.

"Ooh, good one," Tina snickered. She held out her fist for a victory bump, but he steadily ignored her. Frowning slightly, she let her hand fall back to her lap.

Mr. Schue checked his watch. "Okay, it's five o'clock, so we'd better wrap this up," he said. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, all right? We'll work on that new number for sectionals."

Kurt picked up his leather messenger bag and was nearly run over by Rachel as she pounded down the riser steps. "Mr. Schuester, I have some questions for you about the assignment," she said.

"Can this wait till tomorrow, Rachel?" he asked. "A new student just transferred into Spanish, and I have to meet her to go over the material she's missed so far."

Rachel looked disappointed. "I suppose," she said.

Kurt brushed past her. "By the way, Rachel, you can have Gilbert and Sullivan," he said breezily. "Just remember…you can't sing 'Modern Major General'."

"But my range is perfect for it," she protested.

He paused in the doorway, struck a pose for effect, and curled his lips in the smuggest smile he could manage. "That song was written for a boy," he said.

"Oh, burn!" Mercedes laughed.

Rachel opened and closed her mouth several times, looking somewhat akin to a carp out of water. "That dumbfounded expression is quite gratifying," Kurt said. He leaned out the door and strolled down the hallway.

"That was too good," Mercedes said. "You are on today!"

He smiled as he scanned the mostly empty hall. "I've got to run," he said. "Text me later?"

"Of course," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at her and walked the opposite direction down the hall.

"Finn," he called. "Hey, Finn."

The lanky football player turned around. "What's up?" he asked.

"Are you still okay with moving in with me and my dad?" Kurt said.

Finn grinned awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm fine with it," he said. "Unless you've changed your mind."

"No, I haven't," Kurt said. "I was just wondering if you wanted to stop by and bring some of your stuff tonight." He shifted his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I think things would work out better if we redecorate our room together, instead of…you know."

"Yeah," Finn said. "Um. About that…Kurt, I'm still really sorry that I called you a-"

"It's fine," Kurt snapped. "Let's just put it behind us, shall we?"

"Okay," Finn said. "Can I stop by…around seven or eight?"

"Sure," Kurt agreed. "I'll see you then." He fumbled in his coat pocket for his car keys as he walked away. For some reason he got the distinct impression that Finn was watching him.

* * *

He pulled the Navigator into the driveway. The moving van that had been blocking the street since yesterday had finally left; the lights in the house next door were bright and glowing. He parked his car and went inside.

"Hey, kid," Burt said. He sat on the couch, flipping through a fishing magazine. "How was school?"

"Fine," he said. "Finn's stopping by later. How are you feeling?"

"I'm great," Burt grinned. "When I stop by the doctor's on Friday, I bet he'll give me the okay to go back to work."

"Don't push it," Kurt warned. "I don't want to spend another week waiting for you to get out of a coma. Any longer, and I think you would have given me gray hair."

Burt laughed. "You worry too much," he said. Kurt hung his jacket up in the hall closet. "Hey, did you see that someone moved into the Sloane's old house next door?"

Kurt peeked out the window. A cream-colored PT Cruiser drove down the street and pulled into the driveway. "I saw," he said, sitting down on the couch and unlacing his oxfords. "What do you want for dinner?"

"That house has been empty for eight years," Burt said. "I remember when Charlie moved away. And remember his little girl? The two of you were best friends."

"I remember. Dad, what do you want for dinner?" Kurt repeated.

"Whatever you make is fine," Burt said dismissively. "I think we still have some pictures of the two of you when you were little. You used to act stuff out in the backyard." He paused. "You know, I think your mom figured out the whole gay thing because you cried because the Sloane's little girl wouldn't let you be Ariel when you played Little Mermaid."

"She was my favorite princess," Kurt objected. He set his shoes down beside his bag. "I'll get dinner started. Don't get up, okay?"

"Mmkay," Burt said, turning back to his fishing magazine.

Kurt went into the kitchen and turned on the lights. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened window- he looked paler than usual, and his eyes were rimmed with unattractive shadows. For a minute he faltered. He folded his arms on the kitchen counter and rested his forehead on his wrists.

_I don't think I can hold up, _he thought.

"Kiddo, can we do burgers tonight?" his dad called.

Kurt straightened, rubbing the sides of his nose. "Sure," he called back. "It's fine."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

So here it is! My first multichapter story for Glee! I hope it's interesting. I'm kind of scared that the first chapter is boring. Please stick it out!

I have this planned out all the way through. I'm pretty excited about it; my trusty sounding board psychopiratess (who is my best friend/maid of honor/super awesome person named Kat) has heard some of the details and she's pretty excited too.

Also, my husband went to high school with Ke$ha...back when she was just Kesha. That is your random fun fact of your day. I hope you enjoyed it.

So yeah! Please let me know what you think, what you want to see, and what improvements I could make.


	2. Locked In

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

We all seem to be on top of our own little worlds,

but that won't last long for most of us.

We all tend to be a little too into ourselves,

but that won't last long...that won't last long.

Shut your mouth and listen.

There's no time for reminiscing, because thinking of the past just never changed a thing.

_-"Locked In" by Scary Kids Scaring Kids_

_

* * *

_

"I thought you said Finn was coming," Burt called.

Kurt frowned. "He said he was," he said. He checked the clock above the stove. 7:45. "He should be here soon." He dunked the skillet in the dishpan and scrubbed at it viciously. Hot, soapy, slightly greasy water splashed over the yellow rubber gloves and onto his forearms. It stung, but he actually didn't mind it.

The doorbell rang. Kurt peeled off the gloves. "I'll get it," he said. He draped the gloves over the side of the sink and went to the door.

"Hey," Finn said. He used his knee to balance a large cardboard box. "I'm not late, am I?"

"Almost," Kurt said. "Come in."

Finn walked into the living room, balancing the cardboard box against his pelvis. "Hi, Mr. Hummel," he said. "How're you doing?"

"Better, thanks," Burt said. "It's good to see you."

Finn grinned. "You too," he said.

Kurt opened the basement door and headed down the stairs. Finn hurried to catch up. "What's in the box?" Kurt asked.

"Just some stuff," Finn said. "Some posters and junk. Nothing major." He glanced around the room. "Whoa. Did you redecorate after I left?"

"Sort of," Kurt said quietly.

It was kind of the truth. After Finn had left, Kurt had torn down all of the curtains, shoved the bedding under the stairs, and smashed more than one lamp. It was no big deal.

Finn set the box down on the couch. "Are you really sure your dad's not mad at me anymore?" he asked.

"I'm sure," Kurt said. He fiddled with the bottles on his vanity. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"I told you, I'm sorry," Finn blurted out.

"I know, and you can stop," Kurt said. He kept his eyes down. "My original intentions…might not have been entirely…"

"You were hoping to put the moves on me."

Kurt dropped a bottle of toner on the floor. "You knew," he said.

"Yeah, kinda," Finn said, scratching the back of his neck. He sat down on the arm of the couch. "Listen, I really don't have a problem with the whole gay thing. I only have a problem with…well, you trying to seduce me again. I'm just not comfortable, you know?"

"I know," Kurt said. "It won't happen again. I didn't do this for me."

"I didn't think so," Finn said gently. "I know you just want your dad to be happy."

Kurt rearranged the bottles on his vanity. "So what did you bring?" he asked.

Finn lifted the lid on the box. "I know you're real big on the whole…swatch thing," he said. "I thought that if maybe I brought some of my things you could incorporate them."

Kurt picked up a poster and unrolled it carefully. "The colors are good," he commented. "Who is it?"

"David Beckham."

Kurt looked the poster of the shirtless soccer player up and down. "Huh. I think I could be good with this," he said.

"This one's pretty good, too, it's from Rush's last tour," Finn said.

"I could work with this," Kurt offered. "I see a lot of red and blue…"

Something scratched on the window screen. Kurt jumped. "What was that?" Finn asked.

"I don't know, I can't see," Kurt said, fighting the urge to jump behind his chaise lounge. "You go check. You're taller."

Finn edged closer and unhinged the window. "It's a cat," he said, lifting a small gray tabby kitten off the ledge. Carefully he disentangled its little claws from the screen.

Kurt lifted the cat carefully from Finn's big hands. "It's so tiny," he crooned. "Hello there, little one."

"It's got a collar," Finn said. He checked the tag. "But…the address is from Cleveland."

Kurt sat down cross-legged on the chaise, balancing the tiny kitten against his chest. "How'd you get all the way from Cleveland, little guy?" he cooed. The kitten batted at his fingertips.

"It's cute," Finn said, scratching the cat between the ears. "You ever had a pet?"

"Not really," he said. "My mother had a pet rabbit before I was born, but I don't think that counts."

"My dad had a dog," Finn said. "A great big golden retriever named Mandy. She was a real sweetheart. We had to put her down when I was eleven, though. I cried for like a week."

The kitten mewled as it crawled towards Kurt's shoulder. "Maybe we could keep it," he suggested. The kitten licked his fingertip with its warm sandpaper tongue.

"You think your dad'll go for it?" Finn asked.

"I don't know," Kurt said. His heart sank a little. "Maybe I'll just take it to a shelter tomorrow morning."

Something rapped on the window. Both boys jumped. "Is it your turn to check?" Finn said.

"No. Still too short to reach."

Finn approached the window. "Hi, I'm really sorry about this," a girl's voice apologized. "I think my cat got into your house."

"Aw, yeah, a little gray one?"

Kurt petted the kitten, his heart continuing to sink. Of course the cat would belong to someone. Of course he would give it up.

"The tag says it's from Cleveland," Finn said.

"We just moved," the girl explained. "Me and my aunts. I haven't lived here in years, but we decided to come back."

Kurt stood up slowly, balancing the kitten in suddenly shaking hands. "Finn, aren't you going to ask her in?" he said.

"Oh, yeah." Finn stepped closer to the window. "Do you want to come in and get your cat?"

"Sure, I guess." Finn reached up to the window. The girl climbed in; all Kurt could see was her long red hair over her face. She balanced her hands on Finn's shoulders and wriggled through the window.

"Lucky I'm short," she said breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her eyes as Finn set her on her feet. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Finn. Finn Hudson," he said.

"Did you know the people who lived before?" she asked, sliding her hands in the back pockets. "They probably moved away a while ago, though. The Hummels?"

Finn looked from the girl to Kurt and back to the girl. "Um…" he stammered.

Kurt set the kitten down on the chaise. "You're Ella?" he asked.

She looked him up and down. "Are you Kurt?" she said. She pressed her hands to her mouth, making her freckles dance across her nose. "Oh my god! I haven't seen you since we were eight!"

"I'm really confused," Finn said.

"Finn, this is Ella Sloane," Kurt said. "She lived in the house next door since we were born. We sort of grew up together."

"We were best friends," she explained. She flung her arms around his neck. Startled, Kurt nearly lost his balance. "It's so good to see you. I was so mad when my aunts said we were moving back, but now I get to see you again." She stepped back, her small hands on his shoulders. "You look exactly like you did when you were eight."

"So do you," Kurt said. He looked her up and down. She was short and compactly built; her strawberry blonde hair tumbled around her face in wild curls, nearly overwhelming her. "Except, you know. Puberty."

The little kitten rubbed up against Kurt's ankle and mewed loudly. "Oh, there you, Telligrue," Ella said. She bent over and picked up the kitten. "He didn't like the move much. I think he's still trying to run back to Cleveland."

"I'm still kind of confused," Finn said.

Ella turned around. "Are you one of Kurt's friends?" she said.

"I'm kind of his stepbrother," Finn said. "Sort of. Unofficially."

Ella turned around, absently scratching her kitten between under the chin. "Uncle Burt's dating again?" she said. "Wow. I still remember when Aunt Mollie passed away."

"Wait, are you cousins?" Finn asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"She called my parents aunt and uncle, I called her dad Uncle Charlie," Kurt said. The kitten crawled over Ella's crossed arms; he resisted the urge to reach out and pet it. "Where are you going to start school?"

"I started at McKinley today," Ella explained.

"No kidding, that's where we go," Finn said.

She smiled, relieved. "Now I'll actually know someone at school," she said. "I thought it would take weeks to make any friends. Your school isn't really that friendly."

"We do have that reputation," Kurt said. He shifted his weight awkwardly. For some reason he felt both excited and nervous to see Ella. He remembered her as a small, giggly girl in a denim jumper and a hairbow, not a petite sixteen-year-old in leggings and a hoodie.

She ducked her head. "Thanks for saving my cat," she said.

"No problem," Kurt said. "It's good to see you, Ella."

She glanced up at the window. "You know, I think I'd really rather not go back out that way," she said. "Can I go through the front door like a civilized person?"

"Oh, sure," Kurt said.

Ella pulled her meandering kitten off the back of her neck and followed him up the stairs. Finn glanced around, unsure of what to do, and eventually shrugged and tagged along.

Kurt opened the basement door. "Hey, Dad," he said. "I met one of our new neighbors."

Burt turned around on the couch. "How'd you manage that?" he said. "I didn't hear the doorbell ring."

"Sorry, my cat made a break for it," Ella said.

Burt squinted at her until realization dawned. "You can't be little Ella, are you?" he grinned. "I never guessed that was you moving in next door. How are you? Is your dad with you?"

"No, the last time we heard from him he was working on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean, and that was two years ago," she said. "It's just the aunts and I. Aunt Laura finally got fed up with Aunt Vicky fussing about how she hated living in the city, so we moved back to Lima."

"C'mere, let me get a good look at you," Burt said. Ella stepped closer to the couch and took the hand he extended. "Last time I saw you, you were just a little thing. Now you're all grown up."

"And you're bald," Ella laughed. She squeezed his hand. "What's with the IV, Uncle Burt? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," Burt said dismissively.

"He had a heart attack three weeks ago," Kurt cut in.

Ella looked from one Hummel to the other. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Kurt's just being a pessimist," Burt said. "I'll be fine. Probably be at work by next week."

"That's good," Ella said. "I'll tell my aunts you two are still living here. They'll be excited. Aunt Vicky will probably bring cake, though…you won't want to eat it."

"I remember," Burt said. He sighed. "Geez, Ella, you make me feel old. I still remember you as a toddler, sitting on Mollie's lap. Soon you'll be off to college." He laughed. "And if things had worked out differently, you and Kurt could have gotten mar-"

Kurt shook his head violently. Burt frowned. "…well, I guess I'm rambling," he said. "You come by and visit any time, all right?"

"Sure," Ella said. "And when the aunts and I are settled, we'll have you over for dinner." She glanced over her shoulder at Finn. "All of you, I guess."

"You'll meet Carole at some point, I'm sure," Burt said. He gave her hand a final squeeze and let go. "You tell Vicky and Laura I said hello, all right?"

"Of course," she said. She readjusted her kitten in the crook of her arm. "It's good to see you."

She headed towards the front door; Kurt held it open. "I suppose I'll see you at school," he said, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," she said. She leaned over and hugged him with the arm that wasn't holding the cat. "I'm glad you're still here."

"I'm glad you're back," he said, pulling away from her.

Ella stood on the doorstep, the overhead light making her hair a strange shade of orange. "Nice to meet you, Finn," she said.

He raised a hand in farewell. Ella turned around and walked across the yard to her house. Kurt shut the door firmly.

"Kurt, what was that about?" Finn hissed.

Kurt turned around and made a break for the basement. "What was what?" he said nonchalantly.

Finn jogged down the stairs behind him. "Dude, you don't want her to know you're gay?" he said.

Kurt picked up one of Finn's posters. "I think this will be a nice focal point for your side of the room," he said.

"Seriously. What are you thinking?" Kurt brushed his hair smoothly away from his forehead. "I'm thinking that if we used a dynamic red for your side of the room and a delicate pale blue for my side, we can come up with a design that won't make you call me names," he said. "How does that sound?"

Finn rolled his eyes, huffed in frustration, and plunked down on the couch. "Kurt, I told you, I'm sorry about that," he said. "But why won't you tell that girl you're gay?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "Finn, I don't remember her all that well anymore," he said. "She's a part of my past. The past that includes my mother still being alive, and no one caring about my sexuality. I would like to keep those memories intact, if you don't mind."

"So you're either going to avoid her, or you're going to lie every time you see her," Finn said sharply.

"At the moment, those are my only options," Kurt said. He dug into the box and pulled out another poster. "Where do you think this one should go?"

* * *

"…and then Tyra told her that she just wasn't trying hard enough, so even though her shot was better than the other girl's, she got sent home," Mercedes rattled on. "I still can't believe you missed an episode of America's Top Model. You haven't missed one since cycle four!"

"I was a little busy," Kurt sighed. "You know how it is." He flipped his folder open and checked for his French homework. "Oh, good. I didn't forget it."

"Are you still taking French _and_ Spanish this year?" Mercedes said.

"No, that was last year," Kurt said. _Last year, when Finn was in Spanish…_he thought privately.

Mercedes shook her head. "You're the only person I know who would take two different languages at once," she said.

Kurt shrugged. "Studying foreign languages keeps one's mind sharp," he said loftily. "But I'd rather stick with French. It's prettier. Besides, I-"

Mercedes grabbed him by the arm, wrinkling the sleeve of his crisply ironed shirt. "Hold up," she said.

"Did you really have to do that?" Kurt whined.

"Who's that chick talking to Finn and Rachel?" Mercedes said.

Kurt looked up and his heart sank. Finn stood between his girlfriend and a petite redhead. He seemed to be introducing them. Rachel held out her hand, chatting a mile a minute while flashing her pearly white teeth in a broad smile. Ella shook her hand.

"That's the new girl," Kurt said.

"Is she joining Glee?"

"I hope not," he said darkly.

He shouldered his bag and marched over to them. "…so in spite of that, it's actually a very good school," Rachel said. "And our extracurricular activities are excellent as well. What are you interested in? Soccer? Singing? Art? Gymnastics?…singing?"

"I'm not really a singer," Ella said. "I mean, I sing when I drive, but that's about it."

"You should really consider joining the glee club," Rachel rattled on. "We practice three times a week after school. Sectionals are coming up soon, and we can use all the help we can. Even if you're not much of a singer, you could always stay in the back and make it look like our group is bigger than it actually is."

Ella ruffled her curls and slightly wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so," she said. "It's going to be hard enough to keep up with everyone else, much less do after school stuff."

Rachel's face fell, but only momentarily. "Don't worry, you'll come around," she said. "Everyone always does."

"She doesn't have to join glee club," Kurt announced. "She can do what she wants. And that doesn't include being one of your backup singers."

"Kurt, I don't think you've met our newest fellow student," Rachel said. "This is-"

"I know who she is," Kurt said.

Finn leaned in. "She lived next door to Kurt when they were little," he explained.

Rachel whirled around. "Oh, I forgot to ask you," she said. "Are you taking Gilbert and Sullivan? Because I found a piece from _The HMS Pinafore _that I think will be perfect."

Kurt blinked. "I really don't care," he said. "I'm sure I can find something that isn't over a hundred years old and rhymes all the way through."

Rachel opened her mouth to defend the glory of all that was Gilbert and Sullivan, but the bell rang overhead. "Crap. I have to go to…" Ella consulted her schedule. "Spanish. I don't even know where that is."

"Oh, Finn and I are in that class," Rachel said. She beamed. "We'll walk with you."

Rachel walked away, linking arms with Ella; Kurt heard her launch into an elaborate soprano trill, probably from that stupid operetta. He spun on his heel and faced Finn. "What was that?" he demanded.

Finn scratched the back of his neck. "Look, she was sitting in the back of my history class by herself, and no one was talking to her, and I felt bad," he said. "I figured that if I introduced her to Rachel, they'd be able to talk and stuff."

"Talk is right, talk about glee club," Kurt snapped. "You didn't think Rachel wouldn't force her to join?"

"Dude, I'm sorry, I just-"

Kurt stepped closer, raising his chin and standing on tiptoe. "If you, or Rachel, or anyone else lets it slip to Ella that I'm gay, I'll…I'll…"

Finn stared back, unblinking. Kurt lowered his heels. "Just don't tell her, all right?"

"No one will," Finn promised. Kurt gripped the shoulder strap of his bag and stalked towards his French class.

"You're going to have to tell her eventually," Finn called.

Kurt ignored him.

* * *

Kurt clicked through his iTunes. "That won't work," he mumbled aloud. "That was on a commercial."

Frustrated, he scanned through all the song titles, searching in vain for something he was sure no one else was familiar with. Of course, that eliminated nearly all of his Broadway selections. Even if it had closed on opening night with a dozen people in the audience, Rachel would somehow know everything about it.

"Kurt, can you come up here?"

He closed his laptop and headed up the stairs. "What is it, Dad?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Don't flip out like that," Burt said. "Vicky Sloane stopped by today. She and Laura and Ella are coming over tonight."

The bottom abruptly fell out of Kurt's stomach. "What?"

"Ella told them about my little heart incident and they offered to make dinner," he said. "It'll be nice. We can catch up with old neighbors. Maybe we could bust out your mom's old photo albums."

Kurt blinked. "I'd really rather not," he said. "I have to pick a song for next week, and I have a take-home test for algebra. Besides, I have Cheerios practice on Saturday, and I haven't done so much as a heel stretch in a month."

"It's just dinner, Kurt, it's not a fancy dress ball," Burt said. "Just come upstairs, eat dinner, and be sociable for an hour. That isn't so hard, is it?"

His pulse was racing; he slammed his wrists into his sides. "Dad, I really don't want to do anything," he said. "Can't I just eat in my room?"

Burt's gaze narrowed. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that you don't want Ella to know you're gay?" he said. "Because that's not cool with me. Either you're honest or you're a liar, there's nothing in the middle."

"It's really complicated and I'd rather not go through it right now," he said.

Burt frowned. "Promise you'll tell her?"

"Eventually, yes," Kurt said. Burt's frowned deepened. "Dad, it took sixteen years for me to tell you. It's going to take some time."

"All right," Burt relented. "The Sloanes are coming over at six o'clock. You'd better come up."

"I will," he said quietly.

He retreated to the bedroom that would be his alone for just a few more days and half-heartedly opened his laptop. The screen glowed briefly, but he shut it again and stretched out on his bed instead, not bothering to move the comforter. He was just too tired to move.

* * *

Kurt slouched in his chair. Ella's two aunts sat across from him, talking nonstop. His father seemed to enjoy it, though. He talked just as avidly, reminiscing about their high school days and bringing up old inside jokes.

Laura Sloane was a tall, thin woman with bright red hair; Vicky Sloane was short and reminded Kurt of a bird. He could see Ella's family resemblance slightly, but not very well. She probably took after her mother. Kurt didn't remember Mary Elizabeth Sloane at all; his mother once explained that Ella's mother didn't want a baby and left shortly after she was born. He had felt sorry for her at the time. After all, he couldn't imagine what life was like without a mother.

"…and that's when I said to Charlie, 'just take the Carmel statue, they won't even notice'," Laura continued. "And he did."

"They replaced it, you know," Burt said, gesturing with his fork. "It weighs a ton now. Probably to prevent any other pranks like that."

Kurt poked listlessly at the food on his plate. It was nice to not have to cook for once, but he would much rather eat with his dad or alone in his room than sit at the table with strangers.

He glanced up and caught Ella's eye. She half-smiled and shrugged, as if to say _I don't like this either._

Kurt scooted his chair back. "Could I be excused, if you don't mind?" he asked. "I have a project for glee that I need to work on."

Vicky straightened. "Ooh, the glee club," she said. "I remember that."

"Me too," Laura commented. "We used to throw iced tea on them."

"Yes, well, they've upgraded to slushies now," he said.

Vicky clapped her hands lightly, as if she was excited. "Why don't you take Ella?" she suggested. "She can still play the piano, you know."

"Drums her fingers on everything she can find," Laura said. "It's obnoxious."

Ella ducked her head. "Not on everything," she mumbled.

"Yeah, Kurt," Burt said. "Why don't you take Ella?"

He shot his son a pointed glance. Kurt stifled a sigh. "Sure," he said. Ella pushed her chair back and followed him upstairs.

"So you have to pick a song that no one else is familiar with, right?" she said, breaking the awkward silence. "Rachel kept talking about it."

"She tends to do that," Kurt said. He opened the door to the study and flipped on the lights. It wasn't really a study- his dad's ancient desktop computer stood on a roll top desk, and a couple of bookshelves lined the walls.

Ella glanced around. "It hasn't really changed, has it?" she said.

Kurt brushed the dust off the piano. "Not really," he said. He pulled back the cover and hit a C-chord. The notes sounded only slightly off.

Ella sat down on the rolling chair at the desk. "It's kind of weird hanging out again," she said. "I mean, it's different. We're too old to play Wizard of Oz in the backyard and fight over my Barbies."

"Mm-hm," Kurt said. He sat down on the bench and stared at the black-and-white keys, his hands resting limply in his lap as he thought about what on earth he might possibly sing.

Ella tucked her legs underneath her. "So you can't really think of something to sing?" she guessed.

He looked up. "Not particularly, no," he said.

Ella dug in her back pocket and pulled out an iPod. "What kind of song are you looking for?" she asked. "Like…something slow, or something happy, or…what?"

"You're very kind to try to help, but I don't think you can come up with anything," Kurt said.

She scowled. "You're not making this very easy," she said.

"Making what easy?"

"This whole being nice to you thing." She shoved her iPod back in her pocket, then looked up. "You were nicer when you were eight."

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. "A lot of things were different back then," he said.

She dropped her legs to Indian-style. "I know," she said. "Your mom was still alive. I get it."

She rested her chin on her hand, and for a minute Kurt was reminded of what they used to be, when they were little kids and she was his best friend. Briefly he wondered what it would be like if they were friends again. Maybe things would be better, like they were back then.

"Did you have a song in mind?" he asked politely.

She quirked an eyebrow, as if she wasn't entirely tricked by his sudden change of topic. "Kind of," she said, pulling her iPod back out. "You can listen to it if you want to. It's just a nice little love song."

Wordlessly he held out his hand for her earbuds, and she handed them over. He held them up and she pressed play.

He listened to it carefully. The melody was simple but interesting, and he knew he could tweak it just enough to suit his voice that much better. "I like it," he said as it finished. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said. She wrapped the earbuds around the iPod and put it away. "Look, I don't know why we can't get along anymore, but I won't try to make you hang out with me. I think we've been up here long enough to satisfy your aunts and my dad. Have fun with your song." She got up.

Kurt stared down at the carpet. "Do you really still play the piano?" he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

She paused. "Yeah," she said. She smiled. "I remember when your mom would make you practice, and I would beg you to teach me."

"And she finally started teaching you herself," Kurt said. He plucked at the buttons on his wrist cuffs. "Could you help me learn that song? I really can't think of anything else to sing, so I might as well do that."

Ella smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sure," she said. "If you want me to."

"I do," he said, and he realized he wasn't lying. He got up from the piano bench and crossed his arms over his stomach. "I'd really like that."

She sat down at the piano bench and played the first few chords. He closed his eyes, and for a second he imagined that his mother was sitting there, coaxing him through a lesson.

"Do you need help with the lyrics?" she asked, breaking his reverie.

He opened his eyes. "I suppose," he said. Ella placed her hands on the keys and started teaching him the first line.

* * *

Some sort of fuzzy rock music interrupted his sleep. Kurt sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His phone danced across the top of the piano as it rang. He fumbled to pick it up and hit talk.

"Who's this?" he said blearily.

"It's Finn. Dude, did I wake you up?"

He leaned his arms heavily on the closed lid of the piano and stared up at the warm glow from the overhead light. "Finn, please tell me you have a reason for calling me at eleven o'clock at night," he said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just wondering when you wanted me to move all my junk over on Saturday."

Kurt bit back a yawn. "I don't know, nine?" he said. He stopped. "Wait. I have practice."

"Practice for what?" Finn asked.

"Cheerios," he said. "Ms. Sylvester will murder me twelve ways from Tuesday if I miss another one."

"So…do you not want me to come then?"

Kurt leaned his elbow heavily on the closed piano and balanced his phone against his ear. "Practice goes from seven to five. Come whenever you like, but don't get started on our room until I get back. All right?"

"Sure, that's cool." He heard Finn clear his throat. "Hey, Kurt…have you been feeling okay lately?"

He sat up, frowning. "Of course," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Finn said. "You just don't seem like yourself lately."

He stared blankly at the crowded bookshelves. "I just have a lot on my mind," he said.

"Okay," Finn said. "Hey, my show's back on. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Kurt said softly. He hit the end button and stood up, clutching his phone in his hand.

Downstairs it was silent. His father dozed on the couch; all of the lights were turned off and the kitchen was spotless. Kurt silently headed to his bedroom, changed into his pajamas, and crawled into bed, leaving his clothes scattered over the floor. He pulled the covers over his head, blocking out the faint glow of moonlight, and waited to fall asleep.

He couldn't.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

So here's the second chapter! I really hope you like it. I'm struggling a bit with introducing original characters that don't suck. My beta has given me some good stuff about what she thinks about Ella, so I hope she isn't awful. Mary Sues are the bane of my existence, yet it's so easy to write them.

I don't know if it's going to ruin surprises, but no, Kurt is not going straight for Ella. I just don't think there's any way he would go straight for anybody, and certainly not with a character I came up with.

I kind of wondered why Kurt was in Spanish class with Finn in the first season, and in French class the second. I decided that Kurt took both classes sophomore year so he could spend more time mooning over Finn. It's the only thing I could think of that would make sense.

Ella's aunts are inspired from another set of aunts that I love- Lily and Vivian Charles from Pushing Daisies. If you've never seen it (it wasn't on the air for very long), you really ought to give it a go.

Fun fact: When I originally wrote this chapter, I had no idea what song Ella played for Kurt. Now that I'm partway through chapter three, I picked one. What do you think it is?

Also, thank you so much for all of your reviews, favorites, and alerts! I'd like to return the favor.

**Reader: **Thanks! This plot has a lot of threads running through it, so I hope I can keep moving smoothly. And Kurt is definitely heading for some kind of breakdown- physical or emotional, I'm not quite sure.

**MonkeyMojo: **Thank you so much! I hope I've built well on my first chapter.

**particularly good finder: **Thank you! I hope you like it.

**D-fan: **Here's the next chapter! Thanks!

**Dear Near Scary: **Thanks! I hope it wasn't too long of a wait.

**Stardust585: **Kurt definitely is a little too brave for his own good. I think I'm going to explore that idea further in later chapters. And now you've met the new neighbors! I hope they're interesting! And the Hudsons move back in in the next chapter, so you'll get to see that soon. Thank you for reviewing (and the congrats!)

**Mika-chan: **Thank you! I have some good stuff planned for the story, so I hope you like it.

**WorriedSmile: **Thank you! I try to envision the character's voice in my head when I write, because it makes it easier for the dialogue to flow. Sometimes I even play episodes in the background, just so I can hear them clearly. I'm glad it translates well!

**MorganD: **I hope this chapter improves upon the first! Finn moves in during the next chapter, so that part of the story will begin quickly. As for Kurt, he's really in kind of a people-pleasing mode, and he basically is doing whatever he can to make his dad happy. You definitely have a very good point, though, and I look forward to incorporating it into the story.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your feedback.


	3. Manta Rays

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

* * *

Or so I've dreamed

Since I met you

What secrets do you hide?

You tilt your head, there's a city inside.

_-"Manta Rays" by Ludo_

_

* * *

_

"Pygmy giraffes would do better at this than you!"

Kurt struggled to keep his grip on the flier's ankles. She wobbled back and forth and let out a nervous giggle. Sue Sylvester whipped around and zeroed in on the offender. "You're on probation," she shouted through her megaphone. The flier clamped her mouth shut.

The lanky coach stalked back and forth on the bleachers, examining them closely. The cheerleading squad stayed stock still and silent, even though they were trying to maintain two full extensions, one half extension, and three single base cupies.

After what felt like an hour, Sue raised her megaphone. "Cradle," she ordered. "And hit the showers."

The two bases counted out the cradle; the girl flew into the air and landed safely with Kurt's arms under hers and the bases catching her legs. He dropped her to her feet and walked off the field.

"Kurt, hey, Kurt!"

He paused. Brittany ran to catch up to him, her ponytail bouncing back and forth. "Hi, Britt," he said. "Need something?"

She skipped up beside him and grabbed his hand. "I've been wanting to do that since, like, this morning," she said. "Santana! Hold Kurt's hand!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Stop talking about his baby hands. It's creepy," she snapped.

Unperturbed, Brittany swung her arm back and forth, forcing his to go along with it. "So what song are you singing?" she asked. "You know. For glee."

He disentangled her hand from his and pushed the back door to the gym open. "'Manta Rays' by Ludo," he said.

Brittany tilted her hand. "I have never heard of them," she said.

"That's the point, dingbat," Santana said, her voice echoing in the dark, empty gym.

"I don't think I understand," Brittany hedged. Santana huffed, grabbed Brittany by the arm, and dragged her into the girl's locker room.

Brittany poked her head out. "You should come in with us," she said.

Kurt didn't know quite how to respond. "Why?" he stammered.

"Because you don't mind lady parts," Brittany explained. "And we're nicer than the boys." Santana's hand reached through the crack in the door, grabbed Brittany by the top of the head, and pulled her into the locker room. Brittany waved goodbye.

Kurt sighed and disappeared into the boy's locker room. The half a dozen other guys on the squad were already in the showers, talking loudly. He opened his locker and rummaged through his duffel bag.

The Cheerios guys didn't really like him all that much. In fact, they mostly pretended he wasn't there. He didn't mind that very much. It was preferable to be ignored than to be slushied. Or mocked. Or beaten up.

He sat on the bench in front of his locker, untying his shoes as slowly as possible. The other Cheerios milled around his, pulling on their clothes and ruffling their wet hair with towels. He waited until just one or two stragglers left, then grabbed up his bag and ducked into the showers.

The floor was slick with condensation. He pulled his uniform off and draped it over the side, then stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The initial iciness melted quickly into warmth. He closed his eyes and tilted his face upwards.

His muscles ached. Singing for the Cheerios performances were one thing. But now that one of her male backspots moved to Toledo, Coach Sylvester had shifted him from just singing to singing while tossing people in the air. It was a little more than he had bargained for.

He picked up his travel-size bottle of shampoo, squeezed some of it into his hand, and smoothed it through his hair. The scent of jojoba and jasmine filled the air; he breathed in deeply. The combination of the scent and the warm water was finally calming him down. He ducked his head under the spray of the water.

"You're in glee, right?"

He straightened up, flinging water droplets. "What?" he sputtered.

"Hey, chill, it's okay," his visitor said. "You're Kurt, right?"

Warm soapy water ran down his face and into his mouth. "That's me," he choked. "And you are?"

"Sam Evans," the blond guy said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. I just had to ask you a question."

Kurt hid as well as he could behind the shower wall. "Of course," he said. "Go ahead." For a moment his heartbeat picked up, wondering what on earth the good-looking new kid wanted from him. He hoped it was something good.

"Do you have Finn Hudson's number? I accidentally picked up his shoes instead of mine after football last night, and I'm trying to get ahold of him."

Kurt bit his lip. "Just leave them with me," he said.

"Oh, cool," Sam said. "Thanks." He picked up his bag. "I'm gonna go lift some weights. Nice to meet you.. Sorry for interrupting your shower."

Kurt continued to hide. "Don't mention it," he said stiffly.

Sam grinned and walked away. Kurt rinsed the soap out of his hair viciously as he heard the clunk-clunk-clunk of weights. His peace ruined, he finished his shower quickly, yanked on clean clothes, and bolted from the locker room without making eye contact with Sam.

* * *

He let himself into the house, sidestepping a battered cardboard box in the foyer, and closed the door behind him.

"Kurt? Is that you?"

Carole stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "How was practice?" she asked, smiling.

"It was fine," he said, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. "Where's Dad?"

"In the den, resting," she said. "He's doing really well today." She reached over and squeezed his upper arm lightly in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "Are you sure you're okay with all of this, honey?"

"Of course I am," he said. He shouldered his duffle bag. "Is Finn downstairs?"

"He's bringing the last of his stuff in," Carole said. "But he hasn't unpacked anything. He was waiting for you."

"I appreciate that," he said.

"Puck's been helping him move things in," Carole said. "And the girl from next door stopped by too."

He paused. "Ella's here?" he said.

"Mm-hm. She's downstairs with the boys," she said. "Why don't you go on down? You can get some work done before dinner's ready."

He nodded and went down the basement stairs. He could hear Puck and Finn shouting over the noise of a video game. "Did you really have to bring Puckerman in here?" Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"Huh? Oh, hey, Kurt," Finn said absently, mashing the buttons on his controller.

He dropped Finn's football cleats on the floor in front of him with a dramatic gesture. "Did you know you forgot something?" he said.

Finn glanced down. "No wonder my shoes didn't fit," he said. Puck snickered.

Kurt crossed in front of the television, ignoring Puck's angry snarl, and pulled back the privacy partition that blocked away his part of the room. Ella was curled up on his bed, reading a book.

"What are you doing?" he said.

She glanced up. "Sorry," she said. "We finished moving Finn's stuff down here and we got bored."

"No, really, what are you doing here?" he said.

"I was reading on the porch when Finn started moving his things in," Ella said. "Puck wasn't here yet, so he asked me to help."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Finn, who was too busy killing zombies to look up. He sighed and dropped his bag beside the bed. "Well, I'm here now," he said. He tapped her on the ankles; she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "We might as well get started."

He turned towards the two jocks playing video games on his couch and clapped his hands. "Attention, gentlemen," he said. "I think we have more important things to do than killing zombies."

Finn paused the game and tossed the controller on the couch cushions. "Dude, what was that for?" Puck protested.

"Didn't you hear Kurt?" Finn said.

"Yeah, but I was about to smoke you."

Finn rolled his eyes. "I think we both know that I was winning," he said.

"But-"

Kurt stomped over and jammed his hands on his hips. "Can we just get this over with?" he said. "The sooner we finish, the sooner you can return to your testosterone competition."

"Fine," Puck grumbled.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn interrupted. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Would it be okay if I brought my dad's recliner down here? I think we could stick it over there…or would that…you know, clash with your design stuff?"

Kurt sighed. "It's fine," he said. He gestured dismissively. "Just bring it down."

"Sweet," Finn said. "Thanks. C'mon, Puck."

The two football players went upstairs and slammed the door behind them. Kurt winced and sat down on the couch, rubbing his temples.

Ella approached him cautiously. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said. He glanced up. "Why do you ask?"

"You look really pale," she said.

"Thank you for your concern, but it's nothing," he said. "I'm just tired from cheerleading practice."

She smiled at him, that awkward smile that said she didn't quite believe him, and he looked down at his neatly laced shoes. Luckily, the boys chose that moment to bang the door open and lug the recliner down the stairs.

"Dude, it won't go through the door."

"Just turn it."

"That's not going to work." "Not if you turn it _that _way, turn it _this _way."

"You're stupid! It's not- oh, hey."

"See?"

Finn and Puck carried the big brown leather armchair down the stairs and set it down beside the couch. Kurt raised his eyebrow. "It's ugly, but I suppose compromises must be made," he said.

"Thanks," Finn said, slightly flushed. "It was my dad's. Pretty much the only thing I have left of him."

"Oh," Kurt said. He stood up and cleared his throat. "What do you want to get started with?"

Finn surveyed the cardboard boxes piled up beside the stairs. "I dunno," he said. "Clothes, I guess?"

"Dude, I'm out of here," Puck announced. "I can do the heavy lifting junk, but I've got better things to do than put your boxers away." He grabbed the keys to his junky car and loped up the stairs. "See you tomorrow."

Kurt relaxed slightly. It would be ten times easier to go through this without Puck rummaging through his things. "You can use that dresser," he said, pointing to the one on the right. "I traded in my big one for two separate ones so you wouldn't have to share."

Finn frowned slightly, as if he could tell there was something not quite right with that phrasing but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Thanks," he said at last. He ripped open the top of the nearest box and started tossing clothes into the drawers.

"What can I help with?" Ella asked, sliding her hands in her back pockets.

"Help him fold things," Kurt said, before Finn had a chance to speak. "No wonder you always look like you've slept in your clothes."

Finn held a wrinkled tee shirt at arms' length and looked it up and down. "Oh," he said, handing it to Ella. She folded it gingerly and handed it back.

The awkward silence was deafening. Kurt rummaged in the zipped side pocket, pulled out his iPod, and jammed it into the charging dock. He hit shuffle, and the piano intro to "Songs for a New World" filled the room.

He busied himself with hanging up the posters and prints. He'd picked up a few simple black frames, and the simple addition made Finn's rumpled band advertisements and sports legends look classier. It also made his black-and-white lithographs of old Hollywood stars and his Broadway one-sheets look like they might possibly go together.

Finn wrestled a navy blazer onto a hanger and reached for the closet door. Kurt stood up. "No, not that one," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Finn paused. "Why?" he asked.

He hesitated. "That's the electrical closet," he lied. "The breaker box is in there. You can't use it."

"Oh, okay," Finn said. He waved the blazer. "Where should I put this?"

Kurt seized it. "I'll take it," he said, and he crossed over to the real closet on the other side of the room. It would be easier to clear out the other closet and give it to Finn…technically easier, but he didn't want to deal with that. He much preferred massive reorganization of his closet to make room for Finn's clearance rack clothing.

He hung up the blazer, rearranging it on the hanger so it hung evenly, and turned back to his posters. Finn and Ella worked systematically through Finn's things, flattening cardboard boxes as they emptied them.

Kurt realized that they were talking. Nothing deep, nothing serious. Just chatting. About school, and hobbies, and movies. Small talk.

He turned away from them and savagely jammed a picture into the wall. Ella said something that he didn't hear distinctly over the music on his iPod, and Finn laughed.

Kurt hung a framed print on the hook and turned around. "Ella," he said. "Do you mind helping me with something?"

She handed a folded tee shirt to Finn. "Sure," she said. "What do you need?"

He smiled brightly. "It's about my song for glee," he said. "I was hoping to practice a little bit with you, since we have to perform in two days."

Ella frowned. "Right now?" she said.

"It's fine," Finn shrugged. "I need to finish setting up my Xbox anyway."

"Okay," Ella said. "I guess we can practice for a while."

Kurt headed upstairs, Ella following. He went into the tiny study and flipped on the lights as she took her seat at the piano. "It's the opening I'm having trouble with," he said. "Once I get started, it's easier, but I just can't…start."

She smiled and played the introduction. He stood beside her and sang the first verse, trying to ease his voice into something more comfortable and not quite so strangled.

Ella drew her hands back before she started playing the chorus. "You sound like someone's holding your throat," she said. She scooted over on the piano bench and patted the empty space beside her. Reluctantly he sat down.

"You can relax around me, you know," she said gently. She pulled her hair over shoulder, twisted it around her hands, then tossed it back. "I know we're not friends like we were when we were kids, but I think we can learn to be friends again."

He looked down at his knees. "I know," he said quietly. He struggled to find some way of explaining his thoughts without sounding like a complete idiot. "I think I'd like that."

Tentatively she reached over and placed her hand on top of his. Kurt stared at her small hand, and without thinking he turned his palm upward and wrapped his fingers around hers.

Ella looked up, startled by how tightly he was gripping. She squeezed back, as if trying to reassure him, even though she didn't know why.

He knew why. He just couldn't explain it.

Holding Ella's hand was like being a kid again. He remembered grabbing onto her countless times when they were little- when they crossed the street to go play in the park, when they had to walk by the creepy abandoned house on their way to the bus stop, when they were watching a movie and something scary happened. Ella was like a living memory, a breathing time capsule of a life that included two living parents, no one calling him names because of his sexuality, and no pressures to be perfect at everything he tried.

"Kurt?" she breathed. "What's wrong?"

He turned towards her slowly, suddenly aware that he was holding her hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and that his eyes were beginning to sting. "Nothing's wrong," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

She placed her other hand over his, smoothing her thumb over his knuckles. "Something's not right with you," she said. "Isn't there somebody you can talk to?"

He shook his head, breathing deeply in an effort to regain his composure. "I don't really enjoy talking about personal matters," he said. He let go of Ella's hand and slid his fingers away. "Can we try the song again?"

She nodded and played the introduction again. He sang through it, and this time it was right. And he didn't know if it was allowing himself to release a little bit of pent-up emotion, or just because he knew he was gifted, but he knew he sounded good.

Ella played through the song, smiling almost to herself. "You know, it's really not fair that you can sing higher than me," she said.

He nudged her lightly in the side. "You should sing something," he said.

She wrinkled her nose. "I'll keep my voice for my car concerts, thanks," she said.

"No," he said earnestly. "You used to sing when we were little. I bet you can still do it."

She met his gaze, her blue eyes meeting his. "I don't think so," she said softly.

He smiled, and then the nervousness set in. The look in Ella's eyes was slightly unsettling in its familiarity. He had seen that look before- when Rachel looked at Finn, when Artie looked at Tina. It was that slightly sad, slightly hopeful, slightly lost look of starry-eyed romantics.

He panicked, but he wasn't able to move. Luckily, he heard Carole calling from downstairs. "I think dinner's ready," he whispered.

She moved away, the spell broken. "I guess I should head home," she said. "My aunts are going to wonder where I am."

He took a deep breath, trying to make his thoughts come back down to earth. "Do you have the sheet music for the song?" he asked. "I think I might practice some more tonight."

She bit her lip. "I don't really have any sheet music," she said. "I sort of play by ear."

"Oh," he said, frowning. "Wait. How am I going to perform tomorrow without sheet music?"

"I could come in and play for you," she suggested. "I mean, Rachel's been pressuring me to come to glee club anyway. I might as well get her off my back and help you out at the same time."

He didn't know how to respond to that. Part of him wanted to spend more time with her, and part of him wanted to keep her at arms' length…especially if she was going to start staring at him with stars in her eyes. "Of course," he said finally. "That would be fantastic."

She smiled. "Glad I can help," she said.

She left the study, but he sat on the piano bench, tapping listlessly at the black and white keys for so long that Carole had to come upstairs and find him before he could come down to dinner.

* * *

He sat beside Mercedes, one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded over his stomach. Mercedes was humming under her breath and tapping out the notes on her sheet music. Kurt peeked over her shoulder. "Ooh, let me see," he said.

She pulled the paper away. "Nuh-uh," she said, waving a warning finger in his face. "I've kept this a secret for the whole week. You are _not _going to drag it out of me before I get up there and sing."

He grinned and opened his mouth for a typical witty comeback, but his smile faltered as Ella walked into the room- or, rather, was dragged in by Rachel. Mr. Schue looked up from his papers spread out over the top of the piano and smiled.

"What are you doing here, Ella?" he asked.

"She's thinking about joining glee," Rachel said for her, beaming from ear to ear. "I've been telling her that we're in desperate need of people to sing background vocals."

"We're not really desperate," Mr. Schue said.

"And I'm not really here to sing," Ella said, trying to tug her arm out of Rachel's. "I'm here to play the piano for Kurt."

Mr. Schue glanced up. Kurt squirmed and pretended to be very interested in trying to weasel Mercedes' sheet music away. "I didn't know you knew each other," he said.

"She lives next door," Finn explained.

Mr. Schue checked his watch. "Well, it's about time to start," he said. "Go ahead and take your seats." Rachel parked herself in her usual seat in the front row; Finn sat beside her with his long legs stretch out. Ella glanced from them up to Kurt. He smiled, but he knew it looked more like a grimace. She sat down next to Rachel instead.

Kurt maintained his typical stance- one arm across his stomach, his index finger against his chin, his face frozen in that expression that could only be described as "bitchface"- while Mr. Schue drew names out of one of his stupid hats and the other glee club members came up and sang. But wasn't really paying attention.

He tried to remember the last time he was able to keep his thoughts organized. Funny, he couldn't think back that far. It seemed like he'd been stuck in a tangled mess for as long as he could remember, a tangled mess of obligations, pressures, and worries.

He wished things could be normal. If things were normal, he would come home every night to his father _and _his mother. He could balance glee club and cheerleading…or maybe he would have stuck with football instead. He could go out on Friday nights with a pretty girl, instead of sitting at home alone. Maybe that pretty girl could have been Ella, and his parents would be happy to have her as a part of their family.

If only life could be that simple.

"…Kurt?" His head shot up. Mr. Schue frowned. "Kurt, it's your turn," he said.

He stood up, flashing a smug smile at the rest of the club as he hopped down the steps to the front. Ella got up and took her seat on the piano bench. He nodded to signal he was ready.

She played the opening bars. He launched into the song, his voice gliding perfectly across the notes. It was simple enough, but the words were beautiful and the melody suited his range.

Ella adapted her playing to his voice, speeding and slowing when he did, adding emphasis and flourishes when it suited. For a minute it was peaceful, like it was just the two of them in the tiny study.

Kurt reached the end of the song and realized he had closed his eyes. He opened them to see other glee members politely applauding. For a moment he beamed, genuinely happy…until he realized that most of them were looking at Ella.

She didn't notice. She was smiling at him.

"That was great, Kurt," Mr. Schue said. He pushed his rolled-up sleeves further up his arms and reached for the hat. "I think we only have a few more performers left…"

Ella sat back down beside Rachel, who squeezed her arm and flashed her million-watt smile. Kurt stopped himself from frowning just in time and sat down beside Mercedes.

"You were so good," she whispered in his ear.

He gave her a perfunctory thanks and settled back in his chair. Rachel had put her head together with Ella's and was whispering rapidly in her ear. Ella laughed silently and shook her head.

Kurt sat quietly through the rest of the performance, waiting desperately for five o'clock to hit so he could _get the heck out. _All he wanted was to bolt to the parking lot, speed home, and hide, just so he could get some peace and quiet.

No, wait. That couldn't happen. Finn would come home with him too, and he'd toss his crap all over his clean bedroom and play noisy videogames and eat potato chips on his couch.

Besides, he needed to help his dad. There were cars that needed work done, and with his dad still out of commission, he had to stop by the shop and help out. He could at least get some of the paperwork done.

He realized that his chest had tightened, and his breathing was coming hard and fast. Mercedes placed her hand on his elbow. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Fine," he said shortly, doing his best to make himself calm down.

Dimly he realized that the clock had finally fulfilled his wishes and chimed five. "You did really good work today, guys," Mr. Schue said. "I'm really impressed. I've got a new piece for us to work on for Wednesday."

The others picked up their backpacks and jackets and started to file out of the room. Mr. Schue beckoned to Ella. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he said.

Kurt slowed down, dawdling as much as dared as the redheaded girl shouldered her back backpack and walked over to the teacher. It was easy to hear their conversation.

"I know you're not all the interested in singing for glee, but I was wondering if you would consider playing the piano for us," Mr. Schue was saying. "I mean, Brad's almost always here, but I think it would be great if you could help out. I know some of the members can't always hear their parts when they're learning a new song, so if you could help with that…"

"Sure," she said. "I love playing…I might as well do something with it."

"That's great," Mr. Schue said. He picked up his briefcase and patted her on the shoulder. "We rehearse Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Just come when you can, okay?"

"Sure," she said again. Mr Schue smiled and left the choir room.

Ella spun on her heel. "Kurt, why were you listening in?" she asked.

"I wasn't," he protested. "I dropped my pencil."

She folded her arms. "Then where is it?" she asked.

He sighed and walked down the steps. "You're actually going to join?" he said. "I thought you were too busy to join anything."

She sat down on the piano bench and dropped her backpack by her feet. "I changed my mind," she said. "Finn's been really nice to me, and so has Rachel. They keep talking about how awesome glee is, so…why not join?"

"Ella, joining will be suicide," he said bluntly. "Slushies in the face, stuffed in lockers between classes…not to mention dealing with Rachel Berry all the time."

She poked the keys idly. "It can't be that bad," she said.

"No, it is," he persisted. He stood behind her. "You'd be better off joining the fruit sculpture club than glee."

Ella scowled and started playing an actual melody. "Gee, thanks a lot, Kurt," she said. "Don't I feel welcomed."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Don't be like that," he said.

"Like what?" she said. "Mad because you either don't let me talk to anyone else or ignore me completely?"

"I don't do that," he snapped.

"Oh, yes, you do," she said. Her small, slender fingers drummed a simple harmony and a complex melody. "You might be shocked, Kurt, but I'm kind of lonely."

He let his bag slide down his arm and he set it on the floor. Ella studiously ignored him, paying attention only to the piano. "I miss my friends back home," she said. "I wasn't really prepared to move. And now I'm trying to make new friends, and it's not going really well. Finn and Rachel have been really nice to me, helping me get used to this stupid school and introducing me to the people in glee. I just figured that if I joined glee, maybe I could actually make some friends."

She kept playing. Kurt sat down beside her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I guess I didn't really make things easier for you."

"That's not your job," she shrugged. "I was just hoping that you'd be the same kid you used to be."

He reached over and placed his hand on her knee. "I'm not the same kid," he said. "But I do understand what it's like to be lonely."

She stopped playing. "Why are you lonely?" she asked. "You've got all your friends here. Besides, you're so smart, and talented, and cute." She bit her lip, as if she regretted that last part.

"There's a difference between being a part of a group and having friends," he said. "Most of the time, I don't feel like I actually have any real friends, just people that I spend time with on a regular basis."

He pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling; his emotions were wreaking havoc with his attempted flippancy. Ella sidled closer.

"I like you," she said.

He glanced up and half smiled. "Thanks," he said, squeezing her knee.

He must have put a lot of emotion behind that gesture, because Ella leaned in and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and warm and tasted faintly like cherry chapstick, and her breath was warm against his skin. But he wrenched himself away as fast as he could, stumbling over his bag as he slid off the piano bench.

"No," he said, pointing at her, his hand shaking. "No, you can't do this. It's not fair." "Kurt, I'm sorry," Ella blurted out, her face turning red with embarrassment. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry!"

He picked up his bag. "That wasn't fair!" he shouted. "Nothing's fair!"

"Kurt, I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You don't understand," he said. He could feel his face flushing and his eyes watering and his chest tightening as if someone had put his lungs in a vice. He turned and ran, literally ran, out of the choir room and down the hall and into the parking lot.

His fingers shook as he hit the unlock button on his remote and pulled the driver's seat door of his car open. He slammed his bag viciously onto the floor of the car and tried to jam his keys into the ignition.

It wouldn't go in. Dimly he realized he was holding his house key. He dropped the key ring with a hollow clang, buried his face in his hands, and dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I'm still not sure if I'm happy with this chapter, but I do promise it'll get better. Thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted, or reviewed! I really appreciate it. This is going to be a pretty long, hardcore story, and it makes me feel better than I'm not attempting a 100+ page story without an audience!

I hope that Ella is working well into the story. Personally, I don't know how she comes across to readers, but I know she's going to be a key player. I'm just mortally terrified of creating a Mary Sue! It's kind of a horrifying prospect.

I chose "Manta Rays" by Ludo for Kurt's performance, just because I think it's a beautiful song and Kurt's voice (well, Chris Colfer's voice) would make it sound gorgeous. It's from their newest album, Prepare the Preparations, which isn't as good as their previous albums, but I've been waiting so long for new stuff that I really don't care!

I've been hard at work at several Glee stories- "Ocean Eyes," "Mother's Day," and most importantly "Every Plan is a Tiny Prayer to Father Time," which is a ridiculously long title, and I should probably change it, but still. I really love writing for Glee. Thanks so much for welcoming me into the fandom!

Speaking of thanks...

**Dear Near Scary: **Thanks! It's such an adorable mental image...

**Brennend: **I'm going explain Burt and Finn's opinions a little further in the next chapter. (It was going to happen in this one, but then it became entirely from Kurt's point of view and I still don't know how that happened.) They have their reasons, they just haven't had a chance to voice them yet.

**Keyboard Samurai: **I'm glad you find Ella intriguing! And yeah...Kurt is definitely headed for a breakdown...

**Stardust585: **Thank you so much! I've never written anything with this many emotional throughlines, and I'm glad that it's interesting for the audience! I have a definite plan for Ella- she's not meant for eye candy or just a romance...although I bet you can tell that's complicating things...

**Prieva: **Thank you so much...for this and for all the fantastic reviews you left for me! It totally made my day. I'm definitely trying to make this story as honest and in character as I can, so I'm glad it's coming through.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you leave a review...or at least enjoy the story.


	4. Wait It Out

_Where do we go from here?_

_How do we carry on?_

_I can't get beyond these questions..._

_Clambering for the scraps in the shatter of us collapsed that cuts me with every could-have-been_

_Pain on pain on play repeating_

_with the backup, makeshift life in waiting_

_Everybody says time heals everything_

_but what of the wretched hollow?_

_The endless in between_

_are we just going to wait it out?_

-"Wait It Out" by Imogen Heap

* * *

Finn knew something was up when he saw Kurt running across the parking lot. Kurt didn't run. Ever. It just didn't happen.

But sure enough, there he was, bolting across the school parking lot like he was being chased by an ax murderer. Finn watched him throw open the door to his car, toss his stuff inside, and slam the door.

Finn leaned against Rachel's gold sedan, sort of listening to her talk. The Navigator sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, until finally the engine revved and pulled out quickly.

_I wonder what got into him, _Finn wondered. _I guess I'll just ask him about it when I get home._

He knew better, though. Kurt's eyes would just get that frosty look and he would say he was fine. Always, he was fine.

Finn was kind of tired of it.

He realized that Rachel had cut off in mid-sentence. "Is that Ella?" she said, pointing towards the door Kurt had just broken though.

Sue enough, Ella had stumbled out of the back doors, her arm over her eyes and her shoulders hunched. "Poor girl. She probably got her first slushie," Rachel said.

Before he could stop her, his girlfriend was halfway to the sidewalk. He followed her and caught up easily.

"What happened?" Rachel asked, putting her hand on Ella's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm really good at getting food coloring stains out of clothing."

Ella dropped her arm. Her eyes were wet and the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks had faded into the red blotchiness of her face. "What?" she sobbed.

"You didn't get…what's wrong?" Rachel asked.

Ella pressed her lips together and her face crumpled. "I…I made a mistake," she said. "I made a really, really bad mistake."

Rachel took her by the arm and made her sit down on the curb. "What kind of mistake?" she asked. Finn couldn't tell if she was genuinely concerned, or if she really wanted to hear something gossipy. It was probably an equal portion of both.

Ella shook her head. "I don't think I should talk about it," she said. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and took a long shuddering breath that turned into a sob and ended in a very unflattering snort. "It was just…I made a mistake."

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but Finn touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, do you still keep that case of bottled water in your car?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she said.

"Can you go grab one for Ella? I think she might need one," Finn said.

"Oh," Rachel said. "Sure."

She got up and walked back towards her car. Finn sat down on the curb beside her. "Did something happen with Kurt?" he asked quietly.

She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. "How'd you know?" she whispered.

"I saw him running out a few minutes before you did," he said.

"I was hoping I could catch him before he left," she said. She folded her arms and rested them on her knees. "I really messed up."

"What happened?" he asked.

She rested her chin on her forearms. "I don't think he'd want me to tell anybody," she said quietly. "He was…he was really upset. _I_ made him really upset."

"That's weird," Finn said. "Usually when he's upset, he doesn't let anyone notice." He ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how on earth he was going to talk to Kurt.

Rachel walked back over and handed her a water bottle. "Who's upset?" she asked.

Ella ducked her head, cracking open the cap and taking a long drink. Finn scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. "She and Kurt had a fight," he finally said.

"That's awful," Rachel said. "He can say some really sharp, mean things when he's angry."

"It wasn't his fault," Ella said. She drew her damp sleeves over her eyes again. "I just wish I knew how I could talk to him. He didn't even let me apologize."

"Well, Finn's living at Kurt's house now," Rachel said. "Maybe Finn can talk to him, and he can text you when Kurt's ready to talk to you."

"Sure, that's a great idea," Finn said. He rummaged in his pocket for his phone. "Here, give me your number."

She told him the digits, then stood up, gripping her backpack. "I should get home," she said. "Homework. You know."

"Yeah," Finn said. He stood up, towering over her, and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'll talk to him."

"Thanks," she said. "I really appreciate it."

She walked away to her cream colored car and drove away. Rachel tucked her hand into Finn's arm. "That must have been some fight," she said softly.

"Yeah," Finn said.

"If she's that upset, I can't imagine what Kurt's like right now."

"Mm-hm."

Rachel cleared her throat. "We don't have to practice our duet for sectionals for very long tonight," she said.

Finn stared off into the distance, wondering idly what Kurt was doing. "That would be great," he said.

* * *

Finn slammed the front door of the house. His mother looked up from the book she was reading. "Hi, honey," she said. "You're home late."

"I was rehearsing with Rachel," he said. "Where's Kurt?"

Carole turned a page in her book. "Sleeping," she said.

Finn did a doubletake. "What?"

"I checked on him about half an hour ago to see if he was hungry, and there he was, fast asleep," she said. "I didn't have the heart to wake him up. He looks worn out." Finn sighed. "Is there anything left from dinner?" he asked.

"There's soup on the stove, and bread on the counter," she said, sliding her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Help yourself."

He ambled into the kitchen, ladled soup into a bowl, and clumsily hacked off a couple slices of bread. If he had to wait until Kurt woke up to have an awkward conversation, he'd at least have something to eat first.

He walked down to the basement, trying to keep his heavy shoes from clunking too loudly on the stairs. Kurt usually went to sleep after him and got up before he did, but he had the sneaking suspicion that waking him up would be an unpleasant experience.

He set his dinner down on the coffee table and kicked off his shoes. From across the room he heard the soft, barely audible sound of deep breathing. Curious, Finn crept across the room and drew back the curtain that divided Kurt's part of the room from his.

Kurt was huddled on the top of his bed, badly wrinkling the embroidered comforter he was usually so fussy about. His shoes had been dumped on the floor, but he was still dressed in his school clothes. He had wrapped one arm around his stomach, and his other hand was tucked under his cheek. And sure enough, he was fast asleep, his mouth slightly gaping, his chest steadily rising and falling.

Finn shook his head and headed back over to the couch. His mom was right. Kurt did look really tired. And come to think of it, he'd looked pretty tired for a long time.

He sat down on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV, keeping the sound barely audible. He shoved soup into his mouth, mindlessly watching the recap of a football game on ESPN.

He was almost done with his dinner when he heard rustling and a low grumble from the corner of the room. Kurt pushed back the curtains and shuffled towards him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looked like a six-year-old.

"What're you doing?" he mumbled.

"Dinner and football," Finn said.

Kurt plunked down beside him on the couch, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "What're you eating?"

He showed him the empty bowl. "Soup. Want some?"

Kurt shook his head and rubbed the side of his nose. He watched the football game in uncharacteristic silence. Finn cleared his throat. "You feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, his voice still thick from sleep.

"Mm-hm," Finn said. He tore off a piece of his bread and dunked it in the last few drops of soup. "Ella's not, though. She was pretty upset."

He watched Kurt out of the corner of his eye. For a second he saw some sort of expression flash across his face; he couldn't tell if it was anger or sadness. It was gone in a blink. "Did she tell you why she was upset?" he asked, his voice dropping a little lower.

"Nope," Finn said. "She just said you two were arguing."

Kurt's head dropped lower until his chin was tipping against his chest and said something indistinct.

"Hm?"

"She kissed me."

Finn nearly dropped his dishes. "What?" he sputtered.

Kurt stared down at his knees. "Yeah, she kissed me," he said, sighing heavily. "And I…sort of flipped out."

"Dude," Finn sputtered. "Dude, this is why you need to tell her you're gay. You could have avoided this completely."

"It's not that simple, Finn," Kurt snapped.

"Yeah?" Finn said. "Well, it sounds pretty simple to me."

Kurt closed his eyes. "Ella was practically my sister," he said quietly. "Our moms were pregnant around the same time. But Ella's mom left when she was two. She didn't want a baby. So my mother ended up taking care of her while her dad worked."

Finn debated for a second about turning off the television, or setting his dishes down. He didn't dare move. This was the most Kurt had said lately about anything deeper than music or clothing in weeks.

"My mom adored Ella," Kurt said. "My dad too. She was pretty much family. So many of the memories of my childhood involve her."

He was telling the story to his knees, not daring to look up. Finn sat as still as he possibly could.

"When I finally made myself come to terms with the fact that I'm gay, I realized that the best part of that was that I didn't have to face my mother," he said. His voice was still quiet, but there was something tight, almost strangled, about it. "I didn't have to sit her down and tell her that I would never allowed get married, she'd probably never be a grandmother, that I was never going to be like everybody else. She would never have to know."

Kurt raised his hands and put them on either side of his face. "And now with Ella…it's like I have to do it anyway," he said. "I look at Ella, and all I can see is my mom. And…and I know that if my mom had known, it would have broken her heart, and now…now I have to break Ella's."

He buried his face in his hands. _Is he crying? _Finn thought. _Oh, man. I'm not all that great when girls cry…I don't even know what to do when a dude cries._

Finn carefully set his dishes down on the coffee table and inched closer to Kurt. "Hey," he said. "I've heard you and your dad tell stories about your mom. And from what I've heard, it sounds like she was pretty awesome. If you had had to tell her that you were gay, I don't think it would change anything. Heck, I bet you could tell her you wanted to paint yourself green and name yourself king of the moon and she would still love you."

"There's a difference between loving and liking, Finn," Kurt said bitterly, his face still covered. He wasn't crying, but Finn could see that his face was flushed and red. "My dad still loves me, but he doesn't look at me the same."

Without thinking, Finn placed his hand on Kurt's thin shoulder and squeezed it. "Your dad loves you," he reassured him.

"You didn't hear him joking all my life about how Ella and I were going to get married," Kurt choked.

Finn rubbed his thumb on Kurt's shoulder. "You need to tell her," he urged gently. "If you don't tell her, this is only going to get worse."

He shook his head. "Not yet," he said.

"At least tell her you're not mad at her," Finn said. He paused. "You're not mad at her, are you?"

He shook his head again.

"Then you'd better tell her about that, at least," he said. "Give her a chance to apologize."

Kurt shook Finn's hand off his shoulder and stood up, finally dropping his hands from his face. "I'll tell her tomorrow," he said. He straightened the crooked hem of his untucked shirt. "Give me your dishes. I might as well take them up with me."

Finn handed them over. Kurt carried them upstairs and shut the door behind him. Finn sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

* * *

Mercedes was waiting for him when he pulled into his usual parking spot. "Lying in wait, are we?" Kurt said.

She tapped her foot impatiently. "You didn't answer any of my texts last night," she accused.

He tossed his scarf around his neck. "I was a little busy," he said stiffly.

"I was trying to see if you wanted to go to the mall with me," she said, tucking her arm through his. "You never answered, so I got Tina to come with me instead."

Usually he liked chatting with Mercedes, but he couldn't focus. He halfway listened, offering the proper responses when necessary. But he completely lost his train of thought when Ella walked in. She headed over to her locker and twirled the dial of the lock.

"Kurt, are you paying any attention?" Mercedes asked, exasperated.

"Just give me a second," he said. "I'll be right back."

He crossed the hall and leaned against the lockers. Ella took a step back when she noticed him, her light freckles looking dark in the sudden whiteness of her face. He couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, anger, or a little of both. "Hi," she said.

He squared his shoulders, assumed the sassiest posture he could muster, and kissed her on the cheek. She froze. "Hey, girl," he said breezily. "What are you doing tonight?"

She just looked at him, reminding him of a deer in headlights. "Homework," she said warily. "Why?"

"Well, I missed out on a mall date with Mercedes, and I thought I'd make it up to her tonight," he said. "Want to come with?"

She stared at him, mouth agape. "You want me to go to the mall with you?" she repeated slowly.

"And Mercedes, yes," he said. "Have you met Mercedes? I don't think you have."

He slipped his arm through hers and marched her across the hall. "Mercedes, this is Ella Sloane," he said. "Ella, Mercedes. Ella was my bestie when we were little. She's coming to the mall with us tonight."

Neither girl looked very happy with this arrangement.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where it ends.

NO STOP DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.

This is a _terrible _story. It was my first Glee multichapter story, and it shows. The characterization is poor, the plot is thin and annoying, and Ella is a terrible character. She's more of a first draft of Lucy than anything else.

So yes. Here is it where ends.

Ella will still appear in other stories, as a childhood friend, but that's it for her.

However, there was one scene I had planned for this story that I really sort of liked, so I wrote it up as a standalone oneshot. Take a look at "If You're Blacking Out the Friction" if you want to see it.


End file.
